In 1905, a barefoot man named Frank Stranahan ran a ferry across the New River for a nickel a ride. He built a house where the river curved, selling supplies to Seminole traders and hosting guests who arrived by canoe. Today, that same spot sits just a stone’s throw from towering condos and superyacht marinas—but Stranahan’s wooden house still stands, quietly defiant in a city that now calls itself the “Venice of America.”
Fort Lauderdale is a city of water and reinvention. What began as a trading post and army fort morphed into a spring break bacchanal in the 1960s, then pulled off one of Florida’s greatest transformations—swapping keg stands for catamarans and college kids for culinary cruises. Now, it’s a place where pelicans skim the surf beside luxury jetskis, and million-dollar homes peer over canals like sleek sea captains.
You feel it best on the Water Taxi—a hop-on, hop-off boat tour that acts like a floating trolley through the city’s 165 miles of navigable waterways. Locals use it like Uber. Tourists use it to gawk at mansions with their own helipads. One house reportedly has 12 bathrooms, 3 docks, and a statue of Poseidon visible from the bow. Another has been on the market for $36 million so long that the captain calls it “the bargain bin.”
Hop off near Las Olas Boulevard, a palm-lined promenade of art galleries, chocolate shops, old-school tailors, and espresso bars so smooth they could charm an IRS auditor. The street runs from downtown to the beach, changing moods along the way—from posh to pastel to sand-between-the-toes casual. At the corner of 9th and Las Olas, duck into Kilwin’s for homemade fudge, or sit outside Louie Bossi’s, where meatballs are tossed like softballs and espresso martinis arrive faster than traffic.
But Fort Lauderdale’s real secret? The old bones of the place. Visit the Bonnet House Museum & Gardens, once the oceanfront winter estate of artist Frederic Bartlett and his violinist wife, Helen. It’s a tropical time capsule—think orchid houses, monkey statues, and a bright yellow main home that feels part Caribbean dream, part Florida quirk. Tucked behind dunes just blocks from the beach, it somehow survives like a forgotten painting—weathered, wild, and still watching.
And here’s a twist: the Fort Lauderdale Antique Car Museum, a shrine to Packards, brass headlights, and 20th-century Americana. It’s run by folks who speak fluent carburetor and keep everything polished to a Gatsby-worthy gleam. Visitors are often shocked to find such an elegant slice of history wedged between warehouses.
For the kids (and the kid-like), there’s Museum of Discovery and Science, with live otters, flight simulators, and exhibits that make you forget you’re learning something. Right nearby, the Broward Center for the Performing Arts hosts everything from Broadway tours to salsa concerts to puppet jazz ensembles that somehow work. A recent production of In the Heights was so lively the ushers danced in the aisles.
When it comes to food, Fort Lauderdale doesn’t hold back. Start with Coconuts, a dockside eatery where boaters pull up for conch fritters and mahi sandwiches as manatees glide underneath. Then there’s El Vez inside the W Hotel—its tacos are as stylish as its crowd, and the beachfront view feels like someone filtered reality through Instagram. Want classic? The Floridian diner, open since 1937, serves burgers, eggs, and sass 24 hours a day. Hemingway once drank there. Or maybe he didn’t. Either way, it’s got the kind of cracked leather booths that whisper secrets.
If you want local with a side of strange, try Tinta, where ceviche and eggs benedict coexist comfortably, and servers know your favorite coffee order by the second visit. Or wander into Laspada’s Hoagies—a sandwich institution where the meat is stacked so high you need a plan of attack, not just a napkin.
Staying overnight? You’ve got options. The Pillars Hotel & Club, hidden along the Intracoastal, is quiet luxury with a side of British colonial charm. Families love Bahia Mar, with its proximity to the beach and boat rentals. For pure swank, there’s The Ritz-Carlton Fort Lauderdale, which basically offers a spa day just by walking into the lobby. But plenty of smaller boutique hotels dot the canals and side streets too, offering kayak rentals, breakfast patios, and the sort of personal touches you remember five years later.
Now, let’s play trivia:
• Fort Lauderdale has more canals than Venice—165 miles of them.
• It boasts over 3,000 hours of sunshine a year.
• The annual Fort Lauderdale International Boat Show is the largest in the world, featuring over $4 billion in yachts and gear.
• Its beachfront promenade—redone in the 1990s after Spring Break’s wild years—now draws more joggers than beer bongs.
Want a local move? Skip the beach at noon. It’s hotter than a vinyl car seat. Instead, explore Hugh Taylor Birch State Park in the late morning, rent a bike, or walk the trail under the sea grape trees. Around 4:30 PM, as the shadows stretch and the breeze cools, then head to the sand. That’s when the locals show up—with folding chairs, cold drinks, and zero hurry.
If you’re craving true escape, find your way to Dr. Von D. Mizell-Eula Johnson State Park, just south of Port Everglades. It’s quieter, wilder, and packed with both history and horizon. Once the only beach open to African Americans in segregated Florida, the park now honors the civil rights pioneers who fought to desegregate Broward County’s shores. Paddle a mangrove trail. Watch the cruise ships slide by. Say a quiet thanks.
Fort Lauderdale is a place that learned how to evolve without forgetting how to drift. It’s a city of float planes and floating restaurants, canal-side yoga and Cuban cigars, flip-flops and filet mignon. It’s where history wears linen and art shows up in sea walls. And somewhere out there, maybe old Frank Stranahan is still ferrying ghosts across the river, tipping his hat to the future while keeping one paddle in the past.